


Escape

by paintedteeth



Category: None - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-24 15:14:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6157798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paintedteeth/pseuds/paintedteeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything was dark. And then there was him. </p>
<p>A short story originally written for a school assignment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Escape

The telltale sound of chains dragging on cement drew Melanie out of her restless sleep. She glanced down, through the layers of stale air and dust particles that floated throughout the dim room, to see shallow scratches covering her small hands, the blood oozing from the cuts making them sticky to the touch. She must have been twitching in her sleep. A loud moan came from deep within the long hallway, but it failed to startle her. She moved her head backwards in a controlled fashion, until it lightly brushed the brittle, stone wall. Then, she let it rest there. Her hands had run gently along the walls of her cell enough times to know that this was the smoothest section. 

The cell was like a small cave, she imagined, though she’d never seen it in full light. It was rounded, a crudely carved stone alcove, with a cement floor, and a set of iron bars to close the side that faced the middle of the chamber from which it originated. The long chamber itself was modeled like a cellar, but with a narrow aisle down the center. The aisle was covered in dust and stone chunks, which must have fallen when the cells were carved out. Melanie was glad for the sharp pieces of rock, since she used them to write tally marks in the walls to mark the passing days. The arrival of the daily food ration helped her keep track.

The sound of the chains continued, only this time more intensely. The person responsible for the unpleasant noises must have been getting aggravated at this point. She winced as a long sigh tumbled out of her mouth, imagining with humor that someone was rubbing sandpaper on her vocal chords. Her chapped lips were tugged upwards into a close-mouthed smile.

Another groan echoed through the chamber, this time from a voice she’d never heard before. She turned her head, as slowly as if she were a robot low on battery, and squinted her eyes to see beyond the bars that caged her in. Standing in the cell across from hers was a man whose head nearly brushed the ceiling. His hands, as scarred and bloody as hers, were wrapped tightly around the bars of his cell, and he gave her a pleading look, with the one eye that hadn’t been swollen shut. His skin, under the tattered bits of clothing he had left, was pale and because of this, the numerous splotches of yellow up and down his arms were noticeable. 

His terrified stance told her that he had no idea why he was here, and the way he kept tugging at the chains that circled his wrists, as if he could pull them off as easily as a bandage, explained why she hadn’t recognized his voice. She continued to stare at him with the blankest of expressions, and finally he landed backwards in defeat. He sat down on the dusty ground, a loud thump echoing through the chamber, and his feet poked out of the shadows so that she could see the dirt already caking under his soles. 

Only a moment later, the ominous creaking of the heavy iron door that kept them enclosed in the chamber of cells reached her ears, and the fright she’d come to know like an old adversary crept up on her. She closed her eyes, praying with every ounce of the faith she had retained, that they wouldn’t be unlocking her cell. The footsteps approaching her cell halted, and Melanie dared to open her eyes. She wished that she hadn’t. 

A tall figure in a white lab coat towered over the cell, holding in his left hand a syringe filled with a clear liquid. But the doctor wasn’t facing her; instead his body was positioned toward the new man’s cell. A clipboard peeked out of one of the doctor’s pockets, allowing her to catch a glimpse of the words  _ patient name, case study,  _ and  _ pain endurance _ , none of which meant anything to her. 

The man in the cell abruptly got to his feet and backed as far as he could into the shadows. She could hear whispers under his breath, which only escalated when the doctor pulled out a rusty set of keys from his lab coat and slid one into the first padlock on the cell. The doctor tugged open the cell door, careful to keep his eye on the man inside, whose whispers had grown to panicked shouts for help. The doctor made no noise as he advanced into the cell, and Melanie watched in muted horror as he plunged the syringe into the man’s neck. He crumpled, much like pieces of paper that Melanie had used to play wastebasket sports with, and a plume of dirt surrounded his body as it made contact with the unforgiving cement. The doctor picked his arm up from the ground and laid two fingers to his wrist to check his pulse, and then pivoted without adjusting his grip. The doctor strode out of the cell, dragging the unconscious man behind him, whose limp body resembled a slaughtered corpse, especially given the extent of his injuries. 

Melanie let her head fall to the side so she couldn’t see him being hauled away, and soon after drifted into an unconsciousness as deep as one induced by sedatives. For the first time in a long time, her mind allowed her to dream of a life other than this. It had been years since she had seen the sun, but in this dream she sat outdoors on a red and white checkered picnic blanket. A feast of sandwiches and apple juice and chocolate cake was spread out delightfully in front of her. She reached forward to grab one of the sandwiches, which had been cut into two triangles and had its crusts removed just the way she liked, and gasped as she noticed her outstretched arm. She turned her arm over to admire the clear skin, free of bruises and dirt and blood. Temporarily abandoning the sandwiches, she stood to examine the rest of her body, only to find that she smelled like store-brand shampoo and her fingernails were not chipped and bloody, but painted the color of daffodils in the springtime. Instead of a tattered white t-shirt stained red and dark jeans full of holes, she donned a soft cotton dress to match her nails. 

A hand on her knee forced her gaze to the left where her eyes met a familiar face. It took her a moment to recognize him, and then she realized that it was the new man, only without the bruised eye and the scarred hands. His hair was reminiscent of ocean waves, which often gave way to frosty sea glass the color of his eyes. She felt at home next to him, and without a word, turned her body so that she could nestle her head into the crook of his shoulder comfortably. Without question, at this moment, she knew that she loved him, in the same way she knew Tuesday came after Monday, and the way that she knew that the best flowers were a shade of yellow. His body heat kept her warm and the thought of spending eternity in this moment lulled her into a content sleep. 

She woke up from the nap in the reality of her dark, cold cell, and felt the devastation of being locked away more intensely than ever. A single tear slipped out of one of her eyes and made its way down the slopes of her face until it finally dropped off her chin and onto her shirt where it was absorbed by the thin fabric. She glanced over to the new man’s cell, and felt relieved to see him sitting against the wall, his eyes on her. The tear was forgotten as she breathed in the sight of his face.

A wave of nostalgia swept over her as she imagined his loving, scar-free face from the dream, and all that occupied her mind was reliving the fantasy. She tentatively reached her arm out, but she could only get as far as a foot outside her cell. His arm followed her movements and together they wished to be free of the chains. She smiled at him, and when he smiled back, split lip and all, she knew that the way she felt about him in her dream was not just part of the dream.Though she knew nothing about him, even his name, her feelings were clear and determined like an underdog proving someone wrong. And as long as he remained in the cell opposite to her, she promised to hold onto the hope of escaping from this place. When they did, she vowed to have a lifetime of picnics with him. 


End file.
